Caught In The Kings Spell
by PoeticHeart943
Summary: You think you know a story but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you have to go back to the beginning. This is the tale of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn from the beginning... 1522 onwards.
1. Caught In The King' Spell

**January 1522**

As the auburn haired beauty that was Anne Boleyn walked through the snow and into the decorated hallways of Greenwich Palace she contemplated how things had changed in her time away from England. Returning to England had been a dream, she'd done her duty accompanying Mary Tudor, the King's sister to France for her marriage to Francis I, she served Queen Claude in the royal court of Burgundy and revelled in the freedom of learning she had there. She excelled under her guidance and care, her lute playing was the envy of the court, she mastered languages and learnt through some of the French and Burgundy lords matters of politics and religion. Something she knew would be frowned upon in the country of her birth where women served only one purpose, to be bedded and provide men with heirs.

Male heirs.

She watched her father approach her, his face filled with happiness at her return – it was with some trepidation that she returned the smile and curtseyed to him. A happy Thomas Boleyn meant only one thing – he and her Uncle, Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk has undoubtedly been plotting the rise of the Howard and Boleyn family once more.

"_Father..."_

"_Daughter, you look beautiful – the French air has suited you but it is good to have you home."_

She did as was expected, curtseyed once more before making finding herself being escorted towards the one of the main rooms in the palace – she was to meet the King. After all, she was to join her sister Mary Carey as a maid of honour to the Queen Consort, Catherine of Aragon. Anne had been in this roll for three of the greatest women, the Archduchess Margaret of Austria, Queen Mary of France and Burgundy, Queen Claude of France and Burgundy and now Catherine. Her father and Uncle were delighted.

Her return to England was to be a happy one, she was to marry James Butler, 9th Earl of Ormond, the future was looking bright for the youngest daughter and middle child of the Earl of Wiltshire. He was a good man though Anne knew the marriage was one of convenience that had been orchestrated by the men in her life, to manage and resolve a dispute over the Earldom of Ormond involving her father. No one married for love it seemed, not even His Highness, King Henry VIII. Making her way through the room, her eyes locked ahead she wasn't aware of the man eyes that stared at her. Her arrival had been spoken about behind closed doors by many, the cynics believing that she was back at court for her father and Uncle to gain a closer bond to his Highness and not to do with the marriage.

Her great beauty was duly noted by many, and the young page of Thomas Wolsey, and son of the 5th Earl of Northumberland, Henry Percy was one amongst many others. It was a brief locking of eyes between the pair that sparked a natural curiosity in Anne, and she found herself breaking the emotionless mask she'd been wearing to meet his Highness and Queen Catherine and gave the young man a smile that was quickly hidden away.

Anne found herself standing before the King himself, his face filled with disinterest at something his Queen was saying. It was known throughout the many courts of Christendom that his marriage to Queen Catherine of Aragon was not as strong as it had once been. With no heir to the throne, or rather male heir living, Henry it was well known, had taken many a lady as a mistress only to cast her to Charles Brandon before his marriage to the Kings sister, or his other close friends. The man who had intrigued her, how could he not – he was seen to be the greatest King in the whole of Christendom and he had an aura about him that made you want to know him, to be close to him. Waiting patiently at her fathers side for him to see her, Anne thought of the whispers she'd heard in her own rooms between her maids. Henry was supposed to have taken her own sister, Mary Carey to his bed – she doubted very much that this was down to Mary or even Henry in a way but the arrogance and desire for power that her Uncle possessed. If the rumours were true, and Anne was determined to find out if they were from her Father, things for the Boleyn would or could change dramatically if Mary became a favourite of the King and even more so if she conceived a son that he would acknowledge as his own. After all, Elizabeth Blount had given birth to a son, Henry, some eighteen months ago and he had been acknowledged as his illegitimate son by the King.

Still holding her body in a deep curtsey she waited and wondered just what made a mans eyes wander – marriage was a union seen by God and God would see the betrayal of the husband surely? It was not her place to question it, she knew that but she hoped that when she married her cousin that it would be a happy one, a joyous one blessed with children and years of contentment and good health for them both.

The gold detailing of her dress shimmered in the sunlight and she heard her Father make the formal introduction to his highness, his eyes boring into her as he took her in, even from her position in a deep curtsey she saw the look in his eyes. Curiosity. It was true, that their first meeting some years before had led to him becoming angry with her... her quick mouth had been her undoing it was only her friendship with Mary and her father's position as Ambassador to France that had led to her being allowed to accompany Mary to the court of Francis.

_"This cannot be the Lady Anne Boleyn surely, If it is her, why do I not find myself on the receiving end of her harsh tongue? The Lady Anne I knew was not as demure as the lady before me now..."_

So, the games had already begun it seemed. Henry of course knew who she was - he had seen her when she'd visited Mary who was heavily pregnant with another child, known to be Henry's and Lord willing another son.

_"I was led to believe that the King of England was a wise man, and graced with a great mind and a memory that never forgot a face... Has it been too long your Majesty? Must I search for a wise man and not the one who wishes to talk to me?"_

The room was silent.

Anne knew that she was on dangerous ground but she had become too used to speaking her mind. Nonetheless she waited for his response... and it wasn't what she imagined it would be. His deep laughter filled the room as he left his chair and stood before her, his handsome face filled with a smile and his eyes glittering. Anne found herself having to remember her sister was carrying his child - her heart was racing as he took her tiny hands in his and kissed her fingers.

_"Mistress Anne you are quite changed... I would not have recognised you as the child who left court. You are most welcome and I wish you a prosperous Christmas."_

She felt his eyes on her as she returned to her seat... throughout the celebration she would catch the eyes of Henry and Charles Brandon upon her... and the Queen. How she longed to scream out that she was not the same as the rest of the women here at court, she knew her mind – and her mind said she would be a wife to James and not a mistress to Henry. Her marriage may have been arranged as had so many but it would be one filled with love, Anne would make it so. What Anne Boleyn wanted – she invariably got.

Anne wanted a marriage to a man who respected her, challenged her and loved her and no other.

Anne Boleyn would not become a mistress to any man... she would become a wife. Still, it didn't stop her heart racing thinking of Henry and how he had kissed her hand. The man had awoken a passion in her, a passion she knew would have to stay dormant – it did not serve a woman well to desire the King. Especially if you were a Maid of Honour to her gracious highness, Catherine. A lady Anne respected and pitied, she had given Henry a daughter and despite many pregnancies no son, Henry's patience was wearing thin and his wrath at his wife would be directed at anyone who displeased him.

The New Year celebrations were in full swing as both Mary and Anne found themselves being asked to join in the dance that was to take place... something that Catherine had planned for Henry to please him. The Queen and his gracious Majesty were still at their table, something that was uncommon – Catherine often left before Henry, to go to mass or to visit the Princess Mary. It appeared that the New Year celebrations had encouraged the couple to stay longer...

Looking towards them both, Anne couldn't help but notice the change in Henry and Catherine. His face was now filled with curiosity and a smile that made his already handsome feature become even more enhanced as he watched the ladies fill the floor. Catherine had indeed pleased him but not for the reason she would believe. Catherine was known for her dances, it had been sometime since she had taken part but she knew that elaborate colours and moves pleased her husband and put weeks into preparing them with the court musicians and her ladies in waiting.

Henry tolerated the jesters and many members of his court he tried to engage him in conversation over possible attacks on the various enemies of the country. The new year, tonight, was not a time for business but for pleasure and to drink many goblets of wine and eat the many luxurious foods laid before him. Time ticked by before he saw the large square before him empty of dancers and his sister leave her chair – it would appear she was to partake in the dance along with the Queen's household. There had been such a change in Mary since he had told her of Lady Anne Boleyn planned return to court, he knew very little of Anne – except her quick wit and the fact she acted so unlike a lady of the English court. She was a breath of fresh air, both her and her sister in different ways. Henry couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as he thought of Mistress Mary Carey – her beauty shone through and she was a very willing and capable bed companion, Henry had a feeling that she would be his companion for some time. She had him intrigued in a similar way as Elizabeth had had at one time.

The musicians began to play as the rest of the Maids of Honour entered the room in dresses of white and cream, a stark contrast to the many bright colours and black around the room. Every eye in the room was on the Princess Mary and the seventeen ladies around her as the moved with grace around the room – the eyes of one woman were held by the Kings gaze. Mary Carey. Anne Boleyn moved herself with poise, remembering each step perfectly and held her head high despite wishing to avert her eyes from the many men who were watching the ladies move, she was sure she felt the eyes of Henry Percy on her as she turned and twirled around. It was hard to miss as she turned to face the main table once more and saw him sitting there, Charles Brandon frozen behind him watching his wife doing her main part of the repertoire. The dance carried on for several more minutes earning lots of cheers and clapping before the music changed and the dancers found themselves facing partners... Charles and Mary were looking at one another with deep love and it was wonderful to see. Anne however found herself looking into the eyes of the man she knew should have been dancing with his wife, or her sister... not her. Anne was to dance with Henry himself – she could not refuse him so instead swallowed deeply, tilted her head in defiance to the entire room who were no doubt either green with envy or holding their breath to see what the Queen would do. He quietly asked her questions about her health, about her sister... it would please her family to know the King was asking after Mary, that she was still very much in his thoughts and favour. The music was new to her, but the movement was similar to other dances she had done in the last few months, it was when their hands touched that Anne nearly lost her step, there was something in the way their hands fitted together, as if made for one another that made her almost stumble. They were not made for one another – he was a man who had a Queen, a lady who Anne would serve with pride. He also bedded her sister, Henry, King of England was not made for her. She belonged to no man except her father for now and soon she would belong to James.

His hand shot behind her and pulled her upright just in time – a look of horror upon her face made him move his hand and bow before escorting her from the floor.

"_My Lady... I apologise I did not mean to startle you... I hope you are not hurt?"_

_Was it her imagination or did every eye in the court stare at her as the King voiced his concern? Did they see her already as a new bed companion to his highness? _

_She held her head high and smiled at Henry before dropping into a deep curtsey._

_"My Lord, I merely stumbled – the dance is new to me and I was unsure of the steps. I assure you I am quite well."_

_Henry took in her white skin and shining eyes, she did indeed seem well – maybe it had been a mistake to dance with the girl. Kissing her hand albeit briefly, he returned to Catherine thanking her for planning the dance and led her away._

_Anne saw the look on her Uncle's face – tonight Henry would not call for Mary Carey tonight, he would lie with his Queen. Her Uncle was displeased, how this was Anne's fault was beyond her understanding but she was well used to the irrational mind of a man._


	2. A Birthday Celebration

**June 1522**

Once more the palace at Greenwich was a scene of celebration. This time for the celebration of the King's thirty first birthday. Through the hallways and rooms, there were decorations of blue and gold – rich tapestries had been woven depicting scenes of Arthurian legend to show his love of the legends. Anne had been in the Queens household for eighteen months now and was still unwed, the planned marriage to her cousin James had fallen apart, Anne didn't know the circumstances only that her father's land dispute had been resolved.

She had heard that the King had been involved – that he had secured the land for her father. Anne however was saddened to not find herself married. She was 19 and not married – positively and old maid!

There was a man who had held her interest since entering court, the man she had smiled to that January evening – Henry Percy. She had enjoyed his company and found her heart easily being swayed by the young man, the couple were discreet and the fledging love was building strong between them both, Anne thanked the Gods that they had not been discovered for she had a foreboding that their hope of marriage would not be permitted. Despite that the two carried on sending letters to one another filled with love and hope for the future – the Queen had found Anne many a time reading the latest letter over and over again to herself and had commented that Anne glowed with happiness. How she longed to go to her father and tell him of her love for Henry... how he made her feel so special but she knew that given the family connections that the approval of the Kind would need to be sought. Despite his relationship with Mary, it was something that would be hard to achieve and if she was honest, Mary would be the reason they would not get the Kings consent. Mary and Anne were far from close, they were sisters certainly but were not friends, there had been jealousy and trouble between them throughout their childhood. Anne saw Mary as weak and submissive, Mary saw Anne as trouble – she would be the one that would cause the Boleyn family to fall. The truth was simple – Anne had been seen as the girl who could have given Henry the son he craved and the Boleyn family the rise in notoriety in court that the men of the family desired. Her mouth and temper had denied them this and now despite her marriage to Sir William Carey of Aldenham being all of a less than two and a half years, she had been the mistress of the King since 1521.

Mary, Anne thought, was to be pitied for she had given herself willing to the King and hadn't even been given the title of maîtresse-en-titre, the title bestowed upon the official mistress of the monarch – a title that hadn't even been offered to Elizabeth Blount despite giving birth to Henry Fitzroy. Her sister, Anne surmised, was a fool. If she ever found herself and she prayed she would not, she would refuse the title, in fact she would not find herself in such a situation. She would be married to Henry Percy, somehow... even if she had to beg her father for his consent. She Anna de Boullan, was a woman in love, and nothing would come between that – not even her father.

Since portraying 'Perseverance' at the Château Vert in March, Anne had found herself to be a court favourite. She quickly established herself as one of the most stylish and accomplished women at the court, and soon a number of young men were competing for her but it was Henry she loved, Sir Thomas Wyatt an accomplished poet and gentleman of the court, had taken to sending her poems and although she enjoyed his company as a friend felt nothing romantic towards the man. Anne was flattered by his attention towards her that was certain but her heart and mind belonged to one man. Anne had heard the Queen herself sing her praises and this filled her with joy and hope to remain in the Queens household for a long time. She perfect woman courtier, she danced with ease, had a pleasant singing voice, played the lute and several other musical instruments well, and spoke French fluently. Catherine had called her a remarkable, intelligent, quick-witted young noblewoman. Her father and uncle were incredibly proud – it seemed that although the Queen tolerated the presence of Mary she welcomed Anne with open arms. Secretly, Anne was enjoying the fact that for once Mary wasn't the popular one, she had lived under her prettier sister for all her life, maybe now it was her time to shine.

She had spent time in Greenwich and enjoyed the beauty of the gardens change from snow covered to the spring flowers and now as Summer approached she welcomed the warmth of the June sun beat down on the many families gathered to celebrate the birthday of Henry. There in the grounds of the palace was an area set up for part of the entertainment – there was to be jousting, a sport that Henry and his brother in law and closest friend, Charles Brandon excelled in. It was rumoured that Henry would be taking part in the tournament and that was always a sight to behold.

Anne watched with interest as Catherine of Aragon took her seat next to Henry, was it her imagination or did Henry stare in the direction of her sister, Mary before speaking to Charles Brandon? It seemed Henry had plans for her sister – it had been many weeks since he had called for her and both their father and Uncle had been concerned. Henry made little attempt to hide his interest and attraction to Mary, Anne was convinced if he could he would have asked her for his favour rather than that of the Queen as he took his place against William Compton, the burgundy ribbon of Queen Catherine tied tightly around Henry's lance. Was it her imagination or did she see the yellow ribbon that had been in Mary's hair that very morning sneaking out from Henry's armour? Her sister was playing a dangerous game.

The irony of men jousting when the country was at war with France and Scotland wasn't lost on Anne – she had also seen Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor arrive nine days earlier to sign the Treaty of Windsor. It seemed once more that the desire to possess another' country was over-riding sense in the English court. Yet what did Anne know of the art of war, she was just a woman and she knew her place, even if she did dislike the fact she wasn't allowed to express her own opinions.

She watched as the two horse cantered towards one another, her heart in her mouth as she watched the Kings lance hit William Compton squarely in the chest – the Groom of the Stool fell heavily to the ground and Henry moved in front of the Queen nodding silently his thanks at her giving him her favour. Once more Anne noticed Henry's gaze fall on her sister... and the slight movement towards the ribbon that was escaping through the silver and gold.

The crowds were cheering, their King had won as many had expected and many a purse was being passed from one Lord to another. As the festivities continued into the late afternoon, Anne watched Henry leave and return to the palace and Charles Brandon come to Mary and guide her away from her friends. It would appear that her presence was indeed required by the King. Was it wrong that as she saw the bright smile cross her sisters face that Anne felt a tug of sadness at her heart? She wanted the freedom to show everyone at court that she was in love with Henry Percy, that she had made a match filled with love and within a short period of time too. Why could she not just marry the man she loved as those of a lower birth could?


	3. At Hever Castle

**30th September 1522**

The household at Hever Castle was in uproar, a letter had been sent from Greenwich that Henry was coming to stay for a period of time with Charles Brandon, William Compton, Anthony Knivett and William Norris. A hunting party – Henry had a love for many things and excelled in pretty much everything he did, he loved hunting and the lands around Hever were filled with deer and wild boar. For Henry this was perfect and he'd ensured Mary Carey would be there without her husband who was to remain at Greenwich in his role as a gentleman of the Privy Chamber. After all when Henry wanted something to happen or a person to be in a certain place – it happened. Many would have pitied Carey for losing his wife to another.

Servants were running everywhere and sheets were being removed off the guest rooms – fires were lit and fresh flowers put into the rooms. The whole place was alive with activity, Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, the Mother of Mary and Anne was standing in the main room of the building calling out orders to the many people running around. Her husband was still at Greenwich to bring the King and his guests back to the castle and if she was right, would be arriving within the hour. When Henry got an idea he acted impulsively upon it – nothing and no one would sway him.

Within the Boleyn family it was already known that the reason for the impromptu visit was Mary, her normal room was now a guest room and she had been installed into a room next to the King – what happened within the walls of Hever would be kept within the walls, if any servant dared speak out of turn they would be left destitute and they knew that. No one stepped out of line in the Boleyn household.

Mary Carey was in her room changing her gown to one that had, thankfully, been made for her in the last week – no one has seen it. The deep forest green of the gown suited her skin, and her hair was dressed with Venetian lace and some green ribbon, pinching her cheeks to give them a rosy hue she looked at her reflection in the glass. She knew that whilst Henry was here she would not sleep in her own bed... he had written her love letters that had brought her to tears. She knew in her heart he could never be completely hers, the man was the King – a married man and she was married to William, a man she didn't marry but that was irrelevant. Marriage was for property, security, and to move up within society, if you found yourself liking your husband or wife then that was a bonus not the main point of the marriage. She had no idea what Henry saw in her, but she didn't care – she couldn't say it out loud but she knew she had fallen in love with him. Mary longed for a child with Henry – she knew that it would be unlikely he would acknowledge the child publicly but it would, God willing, be someone she could love and dote on... part of Henry and her, a child created by love.

All Mary could hear was her Mother calling out for Anne... it was typical that when things were busy and her Mother needed her daughters around her. Wherever Anne was, she would be in trouble when she was found.

Where Anne was, was a small secluded garden and she wasn't alone – she was lying on the ground with her head lying in the lap of Henry Percy. Her Mother had no idea he was there, the small bag of coins Anne had given to her maid had secured her silence.

"_Anne my love... we will marry I promise you. I know you're worried that we won't get our parents consent of that of the King but we don't need it – I love you Anne I want you as my wife. Somehow we will do this, even if we have to travel somewhere, nothing will keep me away from you my love."_

Looking up into the eyes of the man she loved Anne knew that he meant every word – he wanted her not for what her family could do for him, or her dowry which would be considerable. No, he wanted to marry her for who she was. He loved Anne Boleyn the girl. - not the Boleyn name...

"_Henry, I want to be your wife... to share all that the sanctity of marriage can offer us, I want to have a family with you – grow old with you. Yet, we know that the King has to give his consent for us to be wed. I don't know know what we can do – you must find us a priest who will marry us in secret, after all once the marriage is... consummated, once I have lain with you then there is nothing any man can do. We will be man and wife in the eyes of God."_

Anne saw her maid approach, wary of her Mistress' temper but aware she must intervene. The Lady of the house needed her daughter and if she was found with Master Percy then Hell itself would appear at Hever Castle.

"_Bessie what is wrong, approach child?"_

The girl came forth, she must have been all of twelve summers with a fresh face that told life hadn't troubled her as of yet. Curtseying deep to the floor and keeping her eyes lowered she told Mistress Anne the news and saw the young Lady of Hever go a shade of white and move quickly, a chaste kiss was placed on Henry Percy' lips as he ran to mount his horse and Anne settled back against a tree where a discarded book lay...

There coming across the garden towards her, her Lady Elizabeth was furious. How dare Anne think she could relax when Henry, the King himself was coming here to stay – his intentions for Mary very clear. For when the letter had arrived declaring he and his friends were coming to hunt there had been a separate letter sent to Mary that had caused her to blush. Elizabeth although unhappy that the King had taken her eldest child as a mistress could not hope that he had chosen her for her beauty and kind heart and nothing more... sinister.

"_Child what are you doing here? I have been calling you and I sent out Eleanor to you some thirty minutes past. The King himself is wishing to grace our household and you think you can read here?_

_There is much to do and he shall be with us shortly. He brings with him some of his friends including the Duke of Suffolk, a man who I wish you to stay away from. Listen to me Anne, Charles Brandon maybe married to the King's sister but he is known for taking girls and destroying their virtue. You my girl will be pure and will be married to a good man – I will not let you be sullied as your sister has been."_

Her comments about Mary could have been seen as tantamount to treason, for if the King chose a woman to lie with him then she was from sullied but should be joyous that he wanted her. It was lucky that they were alone and her Mother' opinions could be seen as an attack on her daughters foolishness to endanger her marriage and not at the King himself. Anne had seen Charles Brandon at court, a man who was striking and charming – she could see why so many women found their way into his bed, he had an aura about him, Anne had to admit to herself that if she hadn't fallen in love with Henry Percy she would not have said no to Charles Brandon if he had asked for her. She was after all a woman who appreciated a handsome man. Henry Percy though was the man for her, she knew it in her heart as she quickly moved behind her Mother apologising for not being thoughtful and being a better dutiful daughter.

"_My Lady Mother, I am sorry, I got distracted and I have to admit hid myself from Eleanor. My love for reading has once more caused you to become unhappy with me and I beg your forgiveness and will take any punishment you see fit for causing you undue concern and worry."_

Quickly running to her room, Anne found her maid waiting to dress her in a new red gown, and another waiting to dress her hair. She could hear Mary in the room a little down the hallway in her room talking to her Mother – it seemed her Mother was reminding Mary that she was to behave and to show respect in her parents home.

"_Mary you are the Kings favourite, he has come here to see you. You must remember to be charming and show an interest in everything he talks about or shows some interest in. Have you been practising your archery? You know that you will joining with everyone to hunt – it will be expected of you, I saw Anne practising yesterday because she enjoys it! Do not fail me daughter, if you do, it will the entire household who will be on the receiving end of your Uncles wrath._

_Remember though child that you are a Lady of noble birth, you will act as one. You are a Boleyn, a name that commands respect – act accordingly."_

Anne choked back a fit of laughter – her sister may have been born a Lady of noble birth but she acted like a common whore. She was married and yet left her marriage bed, her husband who loved her, to please another, and if the rumours that Anne had heard in the French court were true – her sister had laid in many a married man' bed, including the French Kings...

Henry stood in the main room of the Hever Castle listening to Thomas Boleyn bleat on about something or another. His eyes were on the lady he had found himself craving, he needed her – Mary Boleyn was a beauty, and she was compliant to his needs.

"_You are most welcome to our home my Lord, I hope that you will find everything to your pleasure. The room you stayed in when you last graced us with your presence – my daughter Mary will show you to your room whilst Anne will show the gentlemen to their rooms."_

Mary curtseyed low to Henry and Anne saw his eyes fall over her body – it was clear even to a girl who hadn't had much experience of the world, that Henry wanted Mary in his bed and not merely showing him to his room. Anne wished for quiet and to have sometime in the chapel praying the Holy Mother. She did not want what was happening to her to be occurring – Charles Brandon was staring at her in such a fashion she could feel a blush cover her cheeks.

"_Anne... take these gentlemen to the guest rooms, make sure they are happy and then do as your Mother bids you. I want to see happy faces at dinner this evening – and I believe you have been practising a performance for our beloved King?"_

Anne noticed Henry stare at her with interest as he turned with Mary on his arm. His eyes were locked on hers and she found herself unable to look away – it was as if she were under a spell of the King' creation. Finally, she managed to look away to acknowledge her Father.

"_I will do as I am bid my Lord."_

With that, she led the men away trying to avoid Charles Brandon and he's non too subtle hints for her to join him that night. He may have been the closest man to the King but she would not submit to his advances – even if she had a feeling her Uncle would be pleased for her her to lie with the man. She loved Henry Percy. No one else would have the pleasure of her body.

No one.

The men went about their business, her Mother returned to the embroidery and Anne quietly to her books – she knew that if Henry saw her it would be frowned upon but she loved the Arthurian legends that were only now being written down. She lost herself in a time when knights were chivalrous and ladies treated like Queens... something she had been led to believe his grace wanted to return the country to under his reign. Mary as Anne expected, did not return.

The evening meal was one that had had the many kitchen staff running everywhere to create many beautiful dishes... but thankfully Henry had enjoyed the many offerings and large quantities of wine. Mary had never left his side, mainly because Henry had possessively held her with one arm around her waist all the time. Anne had sat with her Mother watching the men discuss politics, sports and occasionally war, she was curious and wished to involve herself in the conversation but for the sake of the woman she loved, the Mother who had secured her safety and welcomed her home she bit her tongue. Why could they not talk of lighter things, of the fact that the Autumn has arrived and people were well – life here in England was good at present, none of the terrifying sweating sickness had affected people. Anne had heard many hundreds had died in France and Spain, that King Francis had locked both the Queen and himself away in seclusion and had refused to have even one servant enter their rooms.

Time flew by as it invariably did when men bored women with such subjects of conversation and Anne found herself being called to take up her lute and play for his grace the King. The great hall of Hever was soon filled with the sound of Anne playing the lute – her father having brought back a copy of Pierre Attaingnant' book of new music for her when he returned from France. Anne knew she was accomplished in her music playing – she loved the sounds her instrument made, she still found herself marvelling at how her fingers could create music by their movement and placement.

As darkness fell around Hever, Henry stood and bowed to the senior members of the household before making his way back to his room. When Anne went to her room, she saw that the candle in Mary's room had not been lit and heard the unmistakable sound of her sister in the room that his grace was sleeping in.

"_Henry... I love you. I know I should not but I wish you to know that when I lie with you, I lie with both my body and heart open to you. I long to give you many children and to be a reason that you smile. Grace be to God I wish to be someone that matters to you. Forgive my honestly Henry... I speak too much I fear."_

Anne heard the unmistakable sound of someone moving on the bed in the room next to hers and the sound of the man who ruled this country talk to her sister.

"_Mary... I have loved many women or thought I did – you my love have given me hope in my life. You know my needs and fulfil them. You tell me that you will give me a son and I believe you. Such an innocence and yet you are such a woman I have never known before. Those who see themselves as beautiful dim into nothing in your presence._

_Now come lie by my side and talk no more..."_

Darkness filled the hallway as Anne' candle became the only lit one.

Lying upon her bed she thought of Henry Percy and how she longed to be his wife, to be away from this place with it's suffocating walls and to be free of the control her father and uncle had over her. She tried in vane to block out the sound of her sister and the King – their declarations of love to one another made Anne' blood run cold.


	4. The King Begins To Doubt His Queen

**1st**** October****1522**

Hever castle was a hive of activity as the King, his friends and the Boleyn family prepared to go hunting – the courtyard was full of horses waiting for their riders. The pages were holding them firmly whilst trying to keep warm as the snow fell around them, they watched as the King came through the main door, with Charles Brandon, along with Compton, Knivett and Norris. Henry was full of laughter and boasting that he would single handedly bring down a wild boar and that it would be the largest of them all. It was a guarantee that bets were being made between the five men. A happy Henry though, was always a good thing.

Anne made her wait out towards her mare and was helped to mount as she watched henry sweep her sister up into his arms and place her behind him. Anne noted the look of disapproval on her Mother's face as she returned to the doorway of the family home – Lady Elizabeth Boleyn no longer hunted, preferring to enjoy the quiet that an empty house offered her. She would, Anne was sure sit and think of what the future offered her eldest daughter as long as she was involved with the king. People were already talking about her and sadly, a similar name to the one the French King had given her was starting to be said around court.

Anne rode alongside her brother and Charles Brandon – someone after a few hours talking to during the morning had become someone Anne would like to call a friend at some point. The Duke of Suffolk appeared to appreciate when a woman knew her own mind, we had talked about life outside court – of how Francis I had treated me when I was living there. I got the feeling that Charles wished to see more of Christendom and what it offered a man with money and position, though of course, Charles would not willingly leave Henry' service, that and his wife would not let him stray too far even if she had already lost him to a lady of the court' bed every other night...

Anne found herself not caring what people thought of her being close to Charles, he wasn't just the man who bedded hundreds of women, he was smart, funny, handsome and kind. He just hid it all behind the arrogance and the dazzling smile. She rode well, there were about 15 yards away from a large boar when Henry and Charles charged forward, Henry having lifted Mary onto Anne' horse, earning a scowl from Anne at having her sister so close to her. The King and his closest friend were racing to kill the boar – between the two of them there would be a no holds bar competition to bring the hog home. One way or another there would be one roasting on a spit that evening. What Anne didn't notice till it was too late was Mary slip down from the horse and run into the woods... chasing after her she found Charles his hand soaked in blood, and a massive smile upon his face – no sign on Henry and Mary.

"_My__ Lady,__the__ King__ has__ gone__ on__ back__ to__ your__ home __however,__ he__ wishes__ us__ to__ continue__ our__ hunt__ – __would__ you__ care __to__ help__ me__ hunt__ down __some__ birds__ to__ accompany__ the__ boar__ I__ killed__ before __Henry__ could__ get __close.__ Does__ the__ victor__ get__ a__ kiss__ from__ the__ most__ beautiful__ woman__ he's__ ever__ seen?__"_

The laughter between the two was heard by many – for a moment Anne forgot about Mary and enjoyed the freedom Charles' presence seemed to give her. She found herself leaning into Charles and kissing his cheek, she hadn't intended to do it but he was there smiling at her, and she felt comfortable with him.

"_Now __Charles,__ I__ love__ you__ like__ a__ brother__ – __you__ know__ that__ I__ now __enjoy__ your__ company,__ please __don't__ ruin__ it__ now.__Tell__ me,__ where__ is__ my__ sister__ and__ the__ King?__"_

He went pale as he knew he had no choice but to tell her the truth. Charles knew from talking to Anne that she was concerned about her sister and reassured her several times that Mary was indeed the King' favourite that he cared deeply for her and had spoken to Charles himself of his wish for a long relationship with Mary Carey.

"_He's__ with __Mary,__ Anne,__ I__ think__ you__ knew__ the__ answer__ to __the__ question __did__ you__ not__ my__ Lady?__ Please__ don't__ trouble__ your __mind__ with__ such__ things__ – __let __us__ two __find__ something __to__ amuse__ ourselves __if__ you__ do __not__ wish __to__ carry __on__ the__ hunt.__ I__ am__ your__ servant__ Anne__ and__ will__ do__ anything __I__ can__ to__ return__ that__ smile __to__ your__ face.__"_

Anne of course wished to continue the hunt, for appearances sake she could not let her father and Uncle see her pain and concern... Charles lifted her once more onto the mare before re-mounting his own horse and they were quickly on their way once more with the many other members of the hunt. Anne felt she had something to prove, she rode harder, aimed her bow at the birds furthest away and at one point took the lead in a hunt for a second or was it third boar of the hunt, her brother having claimed a second kill, though where the beast was, was a mystery... George would no doubt have paid someone to slay an animal for him so he could boast a kill in front of the King. It wasn't her brother' fault but he wasn't as good at hunting as the other men were.

Henry and Mary were riding through the wood, her arms circling his waist and there was silence between the two, the only indication that they were comfortable with one another, that the King wanted her where she was, was the possessive hand holding her arms around him. They rode through a patch of ground covered in flowers that had fought back from the approaching Autumn, Mary asked Henry to stop the horse so she could pick some of the flowers for her Mother – a simple act which would endear her to the Mother she loved deeply. Henry jumped down from the horse and lifted her down carefully – and closely to his tall frame. Mary Carey he thought, was an enigma, her simple innocent wish to get flowers for her Mother was a stark contrast to the woman who had lain with him the night before. The thought of her in his bed made Henry desire her now...

Moving towards Mary, Henry reached for her, pulling her close to his before kissing her softly, the desire and need clear on his face as he lowered her to the ground and stared at her lying there amongst the many coloured flowers. At that moment, he was not the King of England, he was Henry, a man who desired the woman laid out before him, her eyes shining and her breast heaving above the tight corset...

"_I__ love__ you__ Mary...__ I __know__ I__ don't__ say__ it__ enough __but __I__ do...__"_

The words she longed to hear left the man she loved' lips. Reaching for him she welcomed the familiar touch from Henry as they became one and she prayed to the Holy Mother that she would carry Henry' child – to carry a son would be a blessing but a daughter would also please Mary. The child would be loved by her regardless of its gender.

Her dress had gone, Henry having carefully removed it from her and she lay in the warmth of his embrace in her shift, which lay around her waist, Henry' strong body wrapped around her as he kissed her, whispering words of love to her and stroking her skin. Both of them enjoying the fact no one was near – one of the few times they had truly been alone.

"_Henry...__ I__ love__ you...__you__ know__ I__ do.__ I__ wish__ we__ could__ be__ like__ this__ forever...__"_

Her words earned her a gentle kiss as he pulled her to her feet, admiring how the shift flattered every curve of her body, and knowing that she would be hidden away again beneath the heavy skirt and corset. Pulling the laces tight he kissed the bare shoulders of Mary and reluctantly covered her up with the deep velvet cloak he had given her on his birthday. A gift for his mistress on the day he should have received a gift from her but he had cared not.

They rode back together with Mary settled in front of Henry as he held her against him. Henry found himself wondering again if Mary would be like Elizabeth Blount and give him another son, if she did, then surely that would be proof enough that of marriage to Catherine and Arthur had been consummated and that was why no male child between Henry and Catherine lived.

Henry loved Catherine of Aragon, he knew that, he had loved her when he had been a boy and she had come from Spain to marry his brother. She had been truly beautiful then and even now, time and nature had graced her with a continued beauty but the small lines around her face showed her age, and with age came the slimmer and slimmer chance of another child being conceived and living. Mary, his daughter with Catherine was the pearl of his world, but he knew that no woman could rule England.

Arriving back at Hever, Henry was still quiet as he carried the now sleeping Mary Carey back into her parent' home and shoved servants out the way to carry her up to her own room. He would leave her to her dreams whilst he thought of his past, present and future.

Henry VIII, the man Henry Tudor, needed an heir and his Queen could not give him one. He had Henry Fitzroy but he wanted a legitimate heir, a son conceived with his wife, his Queen.

What if she had consummated her marriage, that would make his own marriage to her null and void, he knew that marrying his brother' bride was a mistake but he had done it at his father, Henry VII' request.


End file.
